This End of Winter
by Lovebites and Popcorn
Summary: And I will watch your brilliant sapphire eyes in unhidden cruelty and ecstasy as they slip shut. Forever.


**This End of Winter**

_And I will watch your brilliant sapphire eyes in unhidden cruelty and ecstasy as they slip shut. Forever. **(Sora, Axel. Implied Axel/Roxas)**_

_**Author's Note:** Warning. Graphic imagery, descriptive violence and gore, murder._

* * *

And his deadened eyes, those generous swirling irises now just overflowing with a chain of revulsion and nausea, were ashen pale like morning winter skies with bits and pieces of broken bluebirds and fractured robin's egg shells flittering in and out of translucent focus within the swimming pools of darkness and blackest night. His form was prostrate and convulsing insipidly on the muddied floor, his abdomen wholly crushed and mangled to indistinguishable portions. Deep red crimson showered the clean marble tiles and those damned stagnant boots. So muddy. So muddy and coal-blackened. Freshly mown grass and the soil of the outside world of grey dullness filled his nostrils and assaulted his pentagonian senses like an orange dawn and he could no longer think of anything but green green green grass and his own scarlet liquid of life puddling around him like the conclusion of a mass suicide orgy.

Fading to black, fading to black.

The abyss reached out to claim his damp clammy hand with torn gloves and shattered claws and splintered fingernails that clutched at the cherished and treasured under-ornate yellow sunshine hilt that now seemed to pull him towards an iron-rusted lock of death and cessation. And slowly his feelings began to leave him, numbness coiling like snakes and worms and entrails of the damned. Senses tingled away from his fingertips and took wingless flight along with his vision so that only make-believe nightmares remained to guide him home. No longer could he see the figure of his demise that he knew towered over and above him, watching and watching and licking its pale-skinned lips, with the sinister silver-tipped red rings of razor sharp fiery hot coldness clutched in its black leather-swathed fingers like the vice of wickedness.

"It's nothing personal, you understand? I always did like you… _darling_."

It was a contaminated hiss, like the rattling of empty jars filled to the highest brim with globules of unbreakable red-yellow-blue-green beads and jingle-jangle shards of starlight, and he wondered if it was speaking to him. He didn't quite understand a word that was uttered from its brazen orifice. They slipped through his mind slowly, spit-roast, rapidly, gun-fire; every single dry syllable of cruel revulsion and drowning odium. A slop of shining wetness oozed leechingly and dribbled like a drying stream from his lips, the bubbling gurgle of aerated blood-mingled saliva spilled down his chin and dripped snail-like onto the floor; specks of cherry-red paint and ruby crayon smudges across the hard stone canvas.

The smell of grass was all he clung to, amongst the scents and flavours of sharp overpowering copper intermingled with raw meat. Somewhere deep within the punished recesses of his bitter, bitter bile-tasting mind, a thought surfaced, and he wondered if his overseer of deliverance and judgement had come from the savannahs of Paradise, the land of the Proud; come from there, flew through portals of nonexistence and twinkling star-glazed outer space and glittering malevolence just to materialize like a colourless reaper of the grim and rip his insides to ribbons and shreds with cut-throat spokes of steel and corrupted passion and saturated inferno.

"But, you know—"

And as his body lay there, punctured and unmoving and twitching and shivering uncontrollably on the floor, his pure, innocent, untainted self staining everything and transforming the sanitation and spotlessness into a kind of unholy sacrificial alter, the figure reached down ravenously with the hunger of the devil and the intent of affectionate angels, its smooth-salved fingers manipulating and gentle, gripping his broken arms and hauling him upright, erect. At first the grass-eyed demon seemed spellbound and enthralled by the captivating beauty and loveliness of its deed and triumph.

And whilst his red-black intestines scattered and dangled themselves from his belly, hanging down around his legs and ankles whilst the evil thing shook him and rattled him like a ragdoll,

"—I really, really liked your Nobody _so much more._"

he shut his eyes at last.

He didn't even feel it when the metallic thorns of fire pricked and spiked through his chest desperately and started to carve his heart out.


End file.
